


new year's eve

by Skyuni123



Series: worlds unlike our own [1]
Category: The Brokenwood Mysteries
Genre: Drinking, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25441660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: kristen meets sam one chaotic, wild new year's eve-part of my 'worlds unlike our own' series - all brokenwood pairings, reimagined!
Relationships: Sam Breen/Kristin Sims
Series: worlds unlike our own [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842742
Kudos: 4





	new year's eve

**Author's Note:**

> this was initially posted as part of an anthology, so you might have already seen it

They’re all seventeen, and drunk. A little too wasted on Scrumpy that someone’s brother’s cousin bought them from the Liquor King down the road, and a little bit uncaring. It’s New Years Eve, pretty close to midnight, and the party is  _ humming.  _

Someone’s playing the Killers, and someone’s definitely smoking weed out on the porch. The room is dimly lit and reeks of weed, overly-sweet alcohol, and BO. 

Kristen doesn’t do this. She’s the good girl, most of the time. She does well in school, submits her homework on time, and doesn’t really ever go to parties. (She knows what weed smells like but she’s never, ever tried it.)

That’s the thing. Clara dragged her along tonight, to celebrate the start of their last year at high school together - and now Clara’s gone. She went off with her boyfriend what feels like  _ hours  _ ago.

No-one’s really talking to Kristen, they’re dancing, or playing pool on Jacob’s pool table - rich parents,  _ honestly  _ \- or getting blazed on the porch. It’s a little awkward.

Kristen wants to go to uni, to study English and Psych and maybe Drama - she’s got it all planned out. Her mum wouldn’t be very happy if she knew what was going on at the party tonight.

(But she’s not going to tell her mum. Hopefully,  _ hopefully,  _ her mum thinks she’s still spending the night at Clara’s. ‘Studying for an assignment’ - honestly! Clara’s never studied in her  _ life. _ )

She takes another sip of her Scrumpy. It continues to be very, very average. For all she’s heard about high school parties, she’s honestly not loving this one. This is the first time she’s been this drunk.

“Hi!” Someone tall, ginger, and a little pimply falls down on the couch next to her. 

Kristen gets it. She used to be a little pimply too. Hormones. Or something. She squints into the gloominess for a second - she swears she could see better when she wasn’t drunk but - “Sam?”

Sam Breen’s in her drama class. And English. And PE too, actually. They just never really talk.

(Cause he’s kinda a dick. Not in the way like Jacob and his friends are - how they make fun of Kristen and her friends - just in a funny, kinda weird way. But everyone likes him, and he’s actually good at things, when he’s not making jokes.)

“That’s the one.” Sam finger-guns her and knocks back something that looks vaguely like Scrumpy as well. “You’re Kris. You did that really great thing from… uh- damn- it was  _ As You Like It,  _ eh?”

“ _...Twelfth Night,  _ actually.” She replies, but she’s flattered he remembers. “You really thought it was good?”

“Yeah.” Sam blows out a breath. “You can really act. I was  _ super  _ convinced. Do you want to be an actor?”

“Not really. I want to do English...” She says, and then without any kind of approval from her, her mouth just keeps on talking. About her life, about Clara’s absolute  _ nonsense,  _ about Sam’s version of Benedick from  _ Twelfth Night _ … She needs to stop. She’s never drinking again.

The thing is, Sam keeps on listening. And he genuinely looks interested. Once she stops, he even says, “Y’know, I learned that monologue in a night. Love that guy. He’s a great character. If only I had someone as feisty and strong-willed as Beatrice to work with.”

He side-eyes her, very unself-conciously, and winks.

Kristen rolls her eyes, though secretly she’s pleased, and she can feel herself going a little red. It’s something she can’t ever hide, and it’s obvious that he notices.

“Uh-” She stammers, just a little. “What do you want to do?”

“What, now?” He smiles slowly, a little cockily, but it’s not mean or frightening at all. 

“Uh, next year-”

“Oh, you mean in life?” Sam shrugs. “Honestly, my dream is to become an Angel from  _ Charlie’s Angels,  _ but I think you have to be a girl for that. Probably a detective? I think solving crimes would be cool.” 

“Being in  _ Charlie’s Angels  _ would be pretty fun.”

“Oh, I  _ know. _ ” He replies, a little dreamily. “But I can’t so - next best thing. Plus, my parents will  _ hate  _ it. They’re hippies, y’know.” 

“Hippies?” Kristen knows Brokenwood brings in all types, but this is weird. 

“Yeah. We live out on the Island. I-” He lowers his voice and leans in closer, warm breath tickling her ear. “-even stole some of their stash for the party tonight. Don’t tell them, shhhh.” 

“That’s bad.”

“So bad.” He replies, but doesn’t move back. “I’m a real bad boy.”

She snorts. She can’t help it. “Really?” 

“So bad. Stealing my parents’ weed and  _ not  _ smoking it? Terrible.” Sam says, completely straight-faced. “I’m the actual worst.”

The Scrumpy gives her a confidence she usually doesn’t have. She’s still red, and she can’t quite meet his eyes, but she says, “I think you’re pretty alright, actually.” 

“High praise.” He replies, but seems genuinely chuffed. “I think you’re pretty alright, too, Kristen.” He flings an arm over her shoulder, all loose and floppy and relaxed. He smells alarmingly like lavender.

She coughs. “You know that you reek of-”

“Lavender?” He replies, but still doesn’t move. “Yeah. Mum makes organic deodorants, cause the real ones aren’t hippy enough already. She practically covered me in the stuff before I left the house.” 

It makes sense. His arm is warm, and he’s comfortable. Honestly - though it’s probably the alcohol talking - she could get used to this. “Out of all the men at this party you’re the one that smells the best.”

“Thank you. Out of all the girls at this party you’re the only one who’s laughed my dumb jokes, so I must be getting somewhere.” He looks at his watch, the LED screen glowing faintly in the dim light. “Three minutes to midnight, Kristen Sims. What’s your plan for 2005?”

“Survive school, mostly.” She replies, because honestly, she’s too floppy and comfortable and relaxed to think much about her future, right now. “Clara wants me to find a boyfriend, and it’s so  _ annoying  _ cause she always talks about Harvey and Jonathan and they’re-”

“All terrible.” Sam says, nodding earnestly. “And I know, they’re my friends, but they’re not- they’re just-  _ not.  _ You know?”

“I do.” The moment holds a little too long between them and she blinks, clearing her throat. “Uh, what is your plan?”

“I’m going to convince Mr Stevenson to let us do  _ RENT  _ for the 7th Form play.” Sam says, looking excited. “I reckon I could be a great Roger, rockstar and all.”

“He’d  _ never  _ let us.” Kristen replies. “All the parents would complain and he would get in trouble again.” 

“We’ll never know until I try, Kris.” Sam replies, and boops her on the nose.

She wrinkles her face up at him, knowing she’s being silly and not really minding, and he grins back, eyes bright in the light of the lamp nearby. 

Somewhere out on the porch, Jacob yells, and breaks the tension, “Twenty seconds till midnight!”

“Final 2004 wish?” Kristen asks, suddenly desperate to hold onto the moment, the quietness, the calmness - everything about it.

Sam doesn’t even need to think about it. She can see it in his eyes. “Mmm, that would be telling, wouldn’t it? What’s yours?”

She knows what she wants, all of a sudden. It’s obvious in the comfort, and the warmth, and in Sam’s weird lavender deodorant. She wants him. But she can’t say that, not with him looking at her so steadily and nicely and- “Nothing…”

“Five!” Jacob yells, somewhere off in the distance, and she drags himself away from Sam’s eyes.

“Four.” He yells again, and Kristen feels a little like she’s overheating.

“Three.”

“Two.” Kristen says, quietly, just on the edge of a breath.

“One.” Sam whispers, looking deep into her eyes, and kisses her. 

Fireworks explode behind her eyes for a moment, and she thinks they’re all in her head, until she can actually hear them booming outside the house. He tastes like Scrumpy, too, sweet and a little heady, as well as that terrible, terrible lavender deodorant. 

It is also very idealistic and silly, the rational part of her brain says.

Right now, she can’t really bring herself to care. 

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on the [ tumblr ](http://eph-em-era.tumblr.com). I take prompts!


End file.
